Perfect Timing
by Melting Angels
Summary: Daryl had gotten himself into a hell of a mess, looking for Sophia. Just when he thought he might be out of luck, someone appears to save his sorry ass. Whoever it was that saved him...they had perfect timing. (SET IN EARLY S2)
1. Perfect Timing

Daryl lay winded in the shallows of the creek, the tepid water slowly soaking into his clothes, causing an involuntary shiver. He'd gotten himself into a hell of a mess, looking for Sophia. His horse had jumped when a walker snuck up on them, and was currently running back to the farm, or so Daryl suspected. He'd fallen on an arrow from his crossbow, after he lost his grip on the deadly device, and now he and the weapon were lying at the bottom of a steep incline, which was more like a small cliff. To top it off? He could hear walkers coming. Half a dozen, it sounded like. Luck wasn't shining on the archer today.

He wanted to get up and fight, but his body was in agony. It would wear off, but he was so winded, that he could barely lift his head to see the approaching walkers.

Just as no less than six walkers began descending on him, and Daryl began to think this was how he was going down, one walker fell, after a bullet tore through the centre of its skull. The other corpses quickly followed, falling on the ground next to him like dominoes, splashing into the creek without a single sound from the gun that had downed them. Frowning, Daryl craned his neck, even though the simple motion made him grimace, and saw someone approaching. As they got within a few feet, he could see it was a young woman.

She almost looked worse than he did- whilst she was dressed in dusty biker leathers, struggling with a hikers backpack, what he could see of her skin was beaten and bruised, the right side of her face soaked in blood, covering an impressive black eye. Yet she still stopped to help him.

With a grimace, the woman knelt down beside him.

"Fine mess you've gotten yourself into." She smiled slightly. "Wounded by your own weapon. That fucking sucks."

"How'd-" Daryl started, vision blurring.

"I don't see any other weapons on you. Or any supplies. So...I'm guessing you're the owner of that fine crossbow there." She helped him into a sitting position.

"Why're you helping me?" Daryl asked.

"There's a lot of people I haven't been able to save. But I know I can save you. The world may have gone to shit, but I like to think I'm still a good person."

"You alone?" Daryl asked, reluctant to trust her- what if his rescuer had an alternate motive?

"Why the sudden interest?"

"You saved my sorry ass. Figured I should know who you are."

"Fair enough."

The woman took off her pack, or at least attempted to, before her one good eye clamped shut, as she seemed to bite back a noise of pain. After a moment, she managed to remove the pack. Rummaging around, she constantly glanced around, to check no walkers were approaching.

"To answer your question- yes. I'm alone. Have been since the start."

"Since the start?"

"Unless you count the assholes who attacked me along the way. I've just got bad luck."

"Looks like it. Sorry."

"You should see the other guys."

Finding himself smiling despite the pain, Daryl watched as the woman produced a dented tin, with a fading first aid label on it.

"You a doctor?"

"I was a surgeon. First month on the job- and the world ends. Like I said, I'm pretty unlucky."

The woman pulled off her leather gloves, exposing bruised fists and split knuckles, before pulling on disposable plastic ones. Tentatively, she used a knife to cut away Daryls shirt, enough to get to the wound.

"Got any painkillers?" Daryl asked.

"I've got a bottle of bourbon."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Looking as if she was holding back laughter, at what Daryl suspected was his hopeful expression, the woman produced said bourbon bottle from the pack, wrapped in bubble wrap. The amber liquid glistened in the sunlight. She handed it to him without a thought.

"I keep a bottle or two around when I can. Have some- I'm not a huge bourbon fan. Better than nothing, though."

Just before he took a gulp, Daryl paused. Why the hell was he being so trusting? For all he knew, this chick could be part of a larger group, and only saved his ass so she'd get taken to his camp.

"I know that look. You're wondering if I have some ulterior motive. I'm afraid you'll just have to trust me for now. Without me, you wouldn't be alive to think about whatever motives you believe I have."

Grimacing at her accurate analysis, Daryl took a long gulp of the bourbon, before reluctantly putting the bottle down. As the alcohol burned its way down his throat, Daryl watched as she washed away the blood with a bottle of water, and torn bandage, with a gentleness that seemed alien in such a shitty world.

"The arrow didn't hit any organs, or nick them. You're lucky. Means I can pull it out and sew you up without your guts spilling out."

"Good to know."

"Might wanna take another sip of that bourbon. This is going to hurt-"

"Like a bitch. I know."

Chuckling, the woman snapped off the pointed end of the arrow, which stuck out of Daryls front.

"Turn to your good side. If you can."

Once she could see the arrow bolt better, she seized the bolt tightly, before yanking it out with ease. The painful movement brought a string of impressive expletives out of Daryls mouth, eliciting a barely muffled laugh from the woman.

Moving quickly, she discarded the bloody bolt, before reaching for a needle and stitching thread. Quietly, brow furrowed in concentration, she threaded the needle, before swiftly beginning to sew up the wound. Despite her own injuries, her hands were unshaking, confidently stitching up the jagged wound. Once the entry wound was stitched up, she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Still with me, stranger?" She asked Daryl.

"Yeah."

"Almost there. See any walkers?"

"We're clear. It'll be dark soon, though. Then it'll be hard to tell."

"Shit."

Moving faster, the woman quietly sewed up the exit wound, before leaning back. The stitches were small, almost unnoticeable, with the neatness one would expect of a surgeon.

"Just gotta wrap some bandages round you, then you can get up." She explained.

"Thanks."

"It's ok-"

"Could've left me here to die. Had no reason to help."

"I said- I haven't been able to save many people- but I knew I could help you. This was just as much to help you as it was to help me."

"Still, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Pulling out a roll of gauze, the woman tensed up when they both heard a series of splashes, followed by a series of all too familiar groans. By the sound of it, the groans weren't coming from a singular walker either.

"Shit." The woman rummaged in her hiking pack, before producing a steel baseball bat, stained with blood. "Wait here."

"Can't go anywhere else."

"Smartass."

Rising to her feet, albeit with difficulty, the woman gripped the handle of the bat with both hands, before turning to face the direction the groans were coming from. Before long, three walkers, each more decrepit and rotten than the last, shambled into view. Running at the walkers, the woman swung out hard, and caught the freshest walker in the side of the head, with enough force to cause the head to cave in. Before the walker had even hit the ground, she swung to take out the next walker, sidestepping as the two rotten men clumsily swung at her.

Loading up the crossbow with the few bolts he had left, Daryl swiftly took aim, and downed the third walker, just as the woman was turning round to take it out. Noticing the arrow bolt in the corpse's skull, she shook her head, before bending down to retrieve the bolt. Satisfied with their handiwork, she returned to Daryl's side, face paler than it had been a few moments ago.

"You alright?" Daryl asked.

"Might've busted a couple stitches. Nothing major." The woman shrugged, before tucking her silenced gun back into her belt.

"Those assholes that got you-"

"Yes. They got a few good hits in. But I'm alive, and they're not."

"Should check-"

"I'm fine."

After she held up Daryl's ruined shirt, and began wrapping fresh bandages round him, it occured to the archer that he didn't even know her name.

"You got a name?" Daryl spoke up.

"Jasper. Jasper Carter. Don't suppose you have a name too?"

"Daryl."

"Daryl..."

"Dixon."

"Well. Glad to have a name to put with your face."

"Same here."

"Hold the gauze down, for a sec."

Doing as Jasper instructed, Daryl held down the neatly wrapped bandages, as she tied the end off, cutting it free from the wheel of gauze. Nodding to herself, she began packing up the medical kit.

"So...why're you out here?" Jasper asked.

"Little girl. Sophia. Got seperated from my group." Daryl's eyes widened as his reason for being out there returned to him.

"Damn. How long ago?"

"Been a week."

"That's not good."

"I know. Still gotta keep lookin'."

"No, I get it. But you can't search anymore today. Not in your condition."

Daryl cursed. Jasper was right, but he had a gut feeling that he was so incredibly close to finding Sophia. A moment passed before Jasper spoke up again.

"You got somewhere to hole up for the night?" Jasper asked, slotting the bat back into the hiking pack, before zipping it up as far as it would go.

Pausing for a moment, to consider whether or not he should tell her about Hershel's farm, Daryl watched as she waited patiently for an answer.

Fuck it.

Even if she only saved him to get to the camp...they outnumbered her. But something told Daryl it wouldn't come to that.

"There's a farm. Seven miles back. Set up there." Daryl answered.

"A farm? You're fucking with me. Most farms have been infested."

"This one aint."

"Huh."

"Would take us an hour and...fourty minutes. Give or take. Without the horse. If it hadn't run off...wouldn't take half as long."

"Fuck. It'll be dark in thirty." Jasper cursed. "We better get moving. I don't think either of us are up to climbing back up the creek. Think you can find another way back?"

"Got no choice."

After Daryl helped Jasper put the hiking pack back on, securing the straps, she, in turn, helped him get to his feet. The movement caused black spots to dance in Daryl's vision- he'd lost more blood than he thought.

"Don't pass out on me. I'd like to have a roof over my head tonight."

"Still with you. Let's go."

"Just tell me where to go." Jasper handed Daryl a flashlight. "Lean on me if you need to."

* * *

After an hour, despite walking nearly as slow as the undead themselves, Daryl could tell that they were both getting slower. Their injuries had begun to get the better of them. Exhausted, they'd begun leaning on each other as they walked, an arm round their shoulders to support one another. Both of them were beaten to hell, and they were still a ways out from the farm. They'd not encountered any other rotting freaks, but with the stench of blood on them, it was only a matter of time before they were found. They were walking zombie bait.

"How much longer?" Jasper wheezed.

"Fourty minutes. Longer if we keep walking so damn slow."

"Can't help it."

"I know. Wish the horse-"

Daryl was interupted, when Jasper shushed him. Immediately tensing, reaching for his crossbow, he watched as she took out her gun. In the near distance, he could hear branches snapping on the ground. Which could mean trouble. Fuck.

Just as Jasper was aiming a gun in the direction of the noise, someone spoke up.

"Mr...Mr Dixon?" The shaky voice sounded scared.

"Sophia?!" Daryl called back.

Trembling, covered in mud, Sophia emerged from the shadows, looking equal parts relieved and terrified.

"Holy shit. This the kid you were looking for?" Jasper lowered her gun.

Crying, Sophia ran towards the two, immediately wrapping her arms around Daryl, hugging him as tight as her little arms could handle. The pressure on Daryl's wound nearly drew a curse from his mouth, bug the archer kept that to himself, choosing to smile instead. Jasper took his crossbow from him, so that he could hug Sophia back. The archer held the scared girl tightly.

"You alright?" Daryl asked. "Hurt?"

"I scraped my knee...but I'm not sick, or bitten." Sophia stuttered. "Where's my mom?"

"She's not far." Daryl reassured her, as Sophia finally ended the hug. "She's okay."

"Everyone?" Sophia took Daryl's left hand in her own trembling hands.

"Everyone's fine." Daryl could barely believe his eyes.

"Is she a friend?" Sophia looked towards Jasper.

"Could say that." Daryl admitted.

"I hate to break up this reunion, Sophia, but we need to get to Daryl's camp." Jasper smiled sadly. "Once we're there, you'll be safe. You can hug him all you want then."

"Okay..." Sophia sniffed mournfully.

"Stay close." Daryl took his crossbow back from Jasper, and holding Sophia's hand in his free hand.

* * *

After a further fourty minutes, or as close to fourty minutes as Daryl could estimate, they got clear of the forest, to be greeted by the sight of Hershel's farm, the large house clearly visible. Past the fields of golden corn, the windows emanated a warm, welcoming light. The house was a beacon of hope in the wide, open fields. Just as Daryl stepped forward, Sophia at his side, he heard Jasper curse. Before he could react, Jasper collapsed to her knees, wheezing pathetically. Before Daryl could voice his concerns, Jasper struggled back up, smiling tiredly at Daryl, before pressing forward. Frowning, Daryl kept quiet- they were almost safe, after all. The beaten, tired group limped onward, somehow finding the energy to pick up the pace when the smell of a homecooked meal reached them. Daryl noticed that Glenn and Rick were on the porch, loading their guns, presumably about to leave to find him.

"Holy shit." Glenn noticed the beaten trio, and immediately rushed over, before stopping to aim his gun at Jasper. "Rick, get Carol!"

"You can trust her. She's the only reason I'm not dead in the creek." Daryl spoke up.

Reluctantly, Glenn holstered his gun. If Daryl trusted someone, they'd have to be halfway decent. Glenn sighed, before opening his arms. Sophia flung herself at him, sobbing as she hugged him. With Sophia safe in Glenn's arms, Daryl turned to face Jasper. The woman was white as a sheet, and swaying on the spot.

"Shit." Daryl moved to take the hiking pack off of her.

The moment the pack hit the ground, Jasper finally collapsed, eyes snapping shut as her legs gave out. Scrambling, Daryl guided her to the ground. He frowned when he felt something damp on her right side, and looked down...only to see red liquid seeping through his fingers.

"Sophia!" Carol burst out of the house, closely followed by the others.

"Who the hell is that?" Shane knelt by Daryl, as Carol pulled Sophia up, and into her arms. "She's been beaten up pretty bad. You too."

"Long story. I trust her. Hershel-." Daryl called for the older man.

"How's Sophia?" Hershel asked, as he crouched down, and began examining Jasper.

"Gashed her knee. Tired. Okay otherwise." Daryl summarized.

"Can't believe you found her." Rick wandered over.

"Wouldn't have without Jasper." Daryl admitted. "She's not lookin' good."

"Bring her inside, we'll see to all of you." Hershel smiled warmly.


	2. 20 Questions

Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I am so happy that some of my fellow TWD fans enjoyed the first chapter! I am sorry for the long wait for this second chapter. It's late because of two reasons:

1) I wrote a second chapter and re-wrote it because I didn't want my oc to become a Mary Sue. I feel that she's more realistic now.

2) I wanted to see who Negan was going to kill. That would've helped me decide where to go with this fic, and how many comic book references I should include. Since we didn't find out (though I reckon it's Abraham, Glenn, Aaron, or Rosita) I will do my best!

This fic will go more in the direction of the comics at points, though it is largely based on the show. Thanks for reading thus far, and enjoy this new chapter! There's a lot of dialogue, but the next few chapters will have more action!

* * *

When the adrenaline rush that had started when he found Sophia finally dwindled and died out, Daryl felt sore as hell. Sure, his wounds had been closed up, but the few sips of Bourbon he'd had did little to dull the pain. He'd still been impaled by his own arrow. Impaled. And he'd trekked a good couple hours back to Hershel's farm.

Even though he hadn't done it alone, he still felt like it. Exhaustion coupled with an aching pain would do that to anyone.

But, as the others had constantly told him over the past two days, at least he was alive to feel that pain. He'd come so close to dying.

Yes, thanks to the actions of a complete stranger, here he was. Sitting in a comfortable bed in a warm farmhouse, being fussed over by Carol.

"I'm fine." Daryl insisted, for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

"You're still healing!" Carol folded freshly laundered clothes beside him.

"That don't make me an invalid!" Daryl protested.

"I didn't say that."

"You're treatin' me like one."

"Because I don't want you getting hurt again."

Huffing, Daryl crossed his arms, grimacing when the motion tugged at his stitches. If Carol noticed, she didn't say anything. A few minutes passed in companionable silence before they heard the rapid footsteps of one of the kids. It was only a moment before Sophia burst into the room, smiling widely.

"What is it, baby?" Carol asked.

"Jasper's awake!" Sophia ran back out. "Hershel!"

"I thought she'd be out longer." Daryl was surprised.

"Everyone's different." Carol rose to her feet. "I'm going to see her."

"Wait." Daryl pulled off the covers. "I'm comin' too."

"You shouldn't be up yet."

"I can walk across a hallway. I ain't crippled."

"If you can get up by yourself, you can come with me."

Determined, Daryl forced himself up, leaning on his elbows until he could sit up straight. Ignoring the slight sweat beading on his brow from the effort, and the ache in his injured side, Daryl swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Smirking, he turned to see Carol shaking her head at him. Slightly leaning towards the wall, Daryl followed Carol into Jasper's room. He'd not seen her since they got back to the farm- he'd been sleeping soundly for a better part of two days. He'd only properly woken up that morning.

Waiting in the doorway, Daryl allowed Carol, Sophia, and Hershel to enter, deciding it'd be better if he stayed out of their way while they worked. Jasper looked, for lack of a better word, pretty shitty. The swelling round her bad eye had gone down, but the right side of her face was still a mottled mix of purple, black, and blue. The ugly gash, which Daryl hadn't noticed under all the blood, and the fact they'd mostly travelled in darkness, stretched from the corner of her right eyebrow, curving down to end at her chin. Under the wounds, her skin was deathly pale.

Despite all that? She grinned when she saw Daryl.

"So. You didn't...kick the bucket?" She joked, grimacing as Carol helped her into a sitting position so Hershel could check her wounds.

"Still here." Daryl frowned when he took a closer look at her.

"That bad, huh?" Jasper chuckled, noting the archer's somber expression.

"Stab wound is healing up nicely. Our antibiotics got rid of any infection." Hershel smiled warmly. "You'll be rid of that nasty bruise within a week, though I can't say the same for that gash."

"Just one more scar to add to the collection." Jasper tried shrugging it off.

"If it's alright, I'd like to check that twisted ankle of yours." Hershel stood, to have a better view.

"Thanks. Only got the one, after all." Jasper nodded.

Daryl was slightly confused at that comment, before Hershel pulled back the bedcovers. His eyes widened. From just above the knee, Jasper had nothing. Somehow, she'd lost just over half of her left leg. And from the looks of how it had healed, it wasn't new.

The other ankle was wrapped in several layers of bandages.

"I won't pry and ask how that happened." Hershel politely spoke, gesturing towards her nonexistent left leg.

"I appreciate it." Jasper looked as if she were ready to fall back asleep. "Don't like to remember how it happened. Please tell me the prosthetic-"

"It's in that closet there with your belongings." Hershel gestured to the room's closet.

"I appreciate it." Jasper smiled, before yawning.

"We'll try and get some food in you, then I believe it'd be best if you kept resting."

"I don't want to overstay my welcome."

"Don't worry."

"Then...thank you."

"You're very welcome."

As Hershel left to get Maggie to prepare some food, Carol arranged the cushions behind Jasper, then let her lean back into a sitting position.

"Thank you..." Jasper's eyes flickered to Sophia, who had moved to sit next to her Mom. "You're Sophia's mom?"

"How could you tell?" Carol blinked.

"She looks kinda like you." Jasper smiled.

"People always said she looked more like her Daddy." Carol sighed sadly.

"Well, I'd say she's definitely your daughter. Spitting image." Jasper smiled.

"You know..." Carol glanced at Sophia, who was looking adoringly at the black haired woman.

"Hm?" Jasper yawned.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say how grateful I am that you helped Daryl and Sophia." Carol's eyes shone.

"It's nothing." Jasper looked mildly uncomfortable.

"Its not nothing. You two-" Carol glanced at Daryl, who remained by the door. "Brought my little girl back to me."

"Well...then...you're welcome." Jasper nodded, before turning to look at Daryl. "How're you feeling?"

" 'm fine." Daryl nodded. "Thanks."

"You should sit down, before you fall and embarass yourself."

"Don't need to-"

"Or I will crawl over and force you into a chair."

"You can barely-"

"Don't make me get up. If I bust my stitches, I'm telling Hershel it's your fault."

The two glared at each other, before Daryl finally gave up, grumbling as he pulled up an armchair, and sat beside her bed. Carol smiled fondly. A near death experience would make two people closer.

* * *

After Jasper had been forced to eat, she and Daryl remained awake, to talk. Carol had decided to leave them to it, and had taken Sophia downstairs to prepare dinner. After all, they still knew next to nothing about one another, and from the condition of their wounds, they were going to be stuck in the house for a while. Thus, they decided to get to know each other.

"This where we play 20 questions?" Jasper smirked.

"Guess so. Know almost nothin' about you." Daryl shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"In that case...I'll start. Where are you from?" Jasper asked.

"Northern Georgia." Daryl answered. "Nothin' exciting."

"I'm guessing you aren't keen to elaborate, so...guess it's my turn. I was born in London, England, moved here when I was 12. Not much to complain about, I guess."

"Guessin' you grew up in some fancy home."

"You guessed right. My parents could be super bitchy at times. They were the snobbiest people I've ever met."

"Good thing you ain't a snob. Far as I can tell."

"I do my best."

The two smiled at each other, before continuing.

"Fire away." Jasper nodded.

"Said you were a surgeon. What kind?" Daryl was curious.

"Army surgeon."

"Military, huh? That how you lost your leg?"

"I don't like talking about it, but yeah. Did two tours in Afghanistan and not a scratch. First month of a tour in Iraq, I step on a landmine trying to get some kids away from a group of terrorists. The kids-" Jasper paused, swallowing.

"Don't have to explain if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I appreciate that. But...as much as I hate talking about it...I can't just try and forget about it. The mine went off. My body goes one way, what's left of my leg goes the other way. Shrapnel takes out the kids, and I'm left with a solid ten minutes till backup arrives."

"How'd you not get killed? Why the hell were you alone?"

"My squad mates were already dead, so I dragged myself behind cover. Shot at them as best as I could. Took a couple down. Saw some burning rubble nearby. Had to cauterize the leg. Then I carried on, somehow making it until help arrived."

"That's a hell of a story."

"Yeah. That's what my buddies in the army all said. What the higher ups said. Would rather have had those kids make it out...than get a shiny medal."

A moment passed in awkward silence, before Jasper spoke up.

"Let's not dwell on the sad shit. We'll never get anywhere. What about you? What did you do before all this went down?"

"Nothin' as exciting as getting my leg blown off. Followed my brother around. Did some huntin'."

"You have a brother? What's his name?"

"Merle. And..I don't know where he is."

"Oh, sorry about that. Was he the one that taught you to hunt?"

"No. My father."

"He still around?"

"Nah. Both my folks died off a while back."

"Ah. Sorry to hear that."

Some time passed, the two conversing about their vastly different upbringings, before they reached an equally awkward subject.

"You have someone back in Georgia?" Jasper kept casual. They were running out of questions to ask.

"Never anythin' serious." Daryl shrugged.

"Huh." Jasper seemed surprised.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Your turn."

Jasper paled slightly more, if that were possible, and clenched her hands together in her lap.

"You don't have to-" Daryl started. "We've asked a lot of questions-"

"No. It's-"

"Can tell me some other time."

"I appreciate that...but I'll have to tell someone eventually, so..." Jasper smiled sadly. "I had a wife and two little girls."

"Wife?"

"Something wrong with that?"

"No."

Jasper smiled.

"Her name was Nakai. She was from Zimbabwe. Met her when I was on a tour in Afghanistan. She was doing a news report, and I was the only one in my group willing to stop and talk to her. Things took off from there. Got married in Zimbabwe. Saved to have the girls." Jasper smirked. "She had to have them, so I was the one driving her out at 1 in the morning for a pickles when she got those weird cravings."

"Pickles?"

"We had jars and jars of pickles everywhere. Smelled like pickles for weeks after we got rid of them."

"Why pickles?"

"I asked myself that every day. Kept her from getting too grumpy though. Worth it."

The two continued talking about their vastly different lives, Jasper making the archer laugh with stories of the antics the twins got up to, Daryl telling tales of his rebellious antics with Merle. Soon, though, the conversation dwindled, and they reached an awkward subject.

"What happened to 'em? Your family?" Daryl lowered his voice.

"We were visiting some friends in Atlanta when everything kicked off. We got to their apartment and barricaded the door." Jasper started. "Two days after, I woke up to see the door open. Our 'friends' had taken off and left the door open. The twins were gone. So was Nakai."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I grabbed a kitchen knife and went looking. Found Nakai curled up on top of the twins, at the end of the hall. They were screaming. A couple of the dead ones were tearing into Nakai. She'd protected the twins. They tore into the twins before I could get there."

Jasper's hands were clenched together in her lap, curled into fists so tight her knuckles were turning white.

"Put them down, packed up my things, and fought my way out. Wandered, I ran into you...and here we are. Making our way through an awkward 20 questions." Jasper finished, just as Hershel entered the room with a plate of food.

"Everything alright?" Hershel glanced at the two.

When neither replied, Hershel left the plate, and a bottle of water, on the bed, before making a hasty exit.

"Sorry." Dary spoke up after a while.

"It...actually feels good to talk about it. Never a good thing to keep emotions bottled up. These days, that'll get you killed." Jasper reasoned.

The two fell back into a comfortable silence, before Hershel insisted on dragging Daryl back to his room to check on his injuries.

As the archer protested, Jasper smiled.

* * *

As the group were setting up for dinner, they noticed the slight change in Daryl's behavior. He seemed somewhat calmer. Whether that was exhaustion, or the odd stranger, was yet to be seen. However, after the tension since Sophia disappeared, all were relieved that things were going back to normal. Or as normal as life could be in this new world.

They knew the peace wouldn't last. It never did, but they'd hold onto it while they could.

Whilst the group arranged the table, Shane backed away, dodging the odd glance he received from Rick. Making his way upstairs, he waited and listened just outside of Jasper's room. He could hear Daryl and the new group member talking. Frowning, Shane knocked on the door. Daryl opened it, looking surprised to see Shane bothering to give the stranger the time of day.

"Hershel wanted to talk to you. He's downstairs." Shane lied smoothly.

Once Daryl had made his way down the hall, Shane stepped into the room, closing the door behind him before sitting down where Daryl had been.

"And you are..." Jasper started.

"I'm more interested in who you are." Shane deflected the question.

"Why's that?"

"What's your game?"

"Hm?"

"You were beat to hell, but stopped to help someone, nearly getting yourself killed in the process. Why?"

"Wasn't able to help my family. Knew I could help your friend."

"See, I don't think that's true. Your story seems too good to be true. And people these days always have some kind of hidden agenda. Who're you with?"

"No one. It's just me."

"Really? I find that a little hard to believe. You don't just go it alone in times like this. No one can make it alone."

"I did."

"No, you didn't. That beaten up? Had to be with someone. A group."

"Only group I found were the ones that beat me up. Killed them to get away."

"Sure about that? Because this farm here is the perfect place to stay. You a scout? Gonna go back to your group, tell 'em where we are!"

"No! I told you, I was on my own when I found-"

"Don't lie to me. I'm a cop, I can tell when people are lying."

"I'm not fucking lying! What the hell is your problem?!"

"I'm looking out for these people! You can't trust anyone now!"

Their voices got louder as they argued, Jasper even pulling herself into a proper sitting position, unsupported. As the shouting got louder, they heard footsteps coming rapidly towards them. Just as Jasper swung her leg over the edge of the bed, struggling to get up, Hershel burst into the room, closely followed by Rick, Daryl, Maggie, and Carol.

With Shane distracted, his head turned to the intruders, Jasper reached up with her one good leg, and delivered a swift kick to his crotch. As Shane stumbled, cursing, Jasper leant back on the bed, leg dangling over as she laid on her back.

"Asshole." Jasper spat out.

Shane went for her, but Rick got between them, forcing Shane out of the room. Once the angered man was out of earshot, the four turned their attention to their unusual guest.

"What was that about?" Maggie spoke up first, looking confused.

"Had it in his head I was with a group, was gonna report back to them and send them here. Thought I was lying to him." Jasper slowly sat up, grimacing.

"He wasn't always like that." Rick stepped in, leaning against the wall. "He was different, before all this."

"Weren't we all?" Jasper smiled sadly. "Thanks for stepping in. Your friend probably would have been worse off than a bruised crotch."

"You helped us. Least we could do." Rick answered.

"Shouldn't have used-" Hershel started.

"My busted ankle? Couldn't exactly use the other one. If I'd had the prosthetic on, he'd be crawling on the floor." Jasper smirked.

* * *

Lingering at the end of the hallway, Shane listened as the group in Jasper's room talked and laughed, seemingly at ease with one another. The former cop frowned. The woman had appeared genuine, but her smile...her story...it all seemed too good to be true. Despite her protests, it had to be a fabricated story.

These days, you couldn't trust anyone.

And, even if the others felt at ease around their guest...Shane wasn't ready to trust her just yet.

She had to slip up, make a mistake, give herself up.

It was only a matter of time.


	3. THANK YOU!

**Hello everyone!**

Long time no see! A few years, to be exact. Sorry about that. Life's been a bit of a roller-coaster for me over the past few years. I am back on this site because, this year, it will have been 7 years since I first joined this site! **7 years!** I joined when I was **14**...and now I'm **21**! Time certainly flies, doesn't it?

But enough about me. I'm here for all of you.

I wanted to say a proper thank you to you all, for reading my 39 fanfictions across various fandoms. Thank you for favouriting. For following. For all your lovely, amazing reviews. But most of all...

 **Thank you for reading!**

Throughout Secondary School I was terribly bullied, but found an escape in fanfiction! All of you kept up with me through hiatuses and personal problems- and I've had many a wonderful message of support.

You've all been so amazing over the years, and I wanted to thank you all. Over the years you've reviewed my stories **2,070** times, and read my stories **633,731** times! That's incredible!

I am mainly here to say that, save for _The Jasmine Dragon_ and my new fic _Sophia's Lost Days_ , all of my other stories will no longer be updated. Unfortunately, I have moved on from quite a few fandoms. That isn't to say that some won't be rebooted!

 **Possible reboots:**

 _Pretty much every main Avengers fic that I wrote- Avengers and Videogames, Avengers and Pranks, Avengers and Movies, Real Life Video Games._

So. Before I go to continue writing, I wanted to say to all of you, again...

 **THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT OVER THE PAST 7 YEARS!**


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